


When Sachio Saw Joe's Scary Face (#19)

by digitalpen



Series: The World Champion [2]
Category: Megalo Box (Anime)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:11:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20458778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalpen/pseuds/digitalpen
Summary: Sachio hasn't seen every side of Joe, even if Joe is basically his big brother.  Is Joe really as scary as he pretended to be for the fights?  Can Sachio trust someone who hurts people?





	When Sachio Saw Joe's Scary Face (#19)

**Author's Note:**

> I had this sitting as a draft for a while, and I decided to finish it up now that I've got a real AO3 account. It was fun to write from the perspective of a young kid, I just hope it doesn't sound too off. :)

It’s a hot summer day, and all the neighborhood kids are running around outside, ostensibly helping Nanbu water the vegetable garden, but actually just spraying each other to cool down. Sachio thinks that maybe they’ll all go get ice pops later. Maybe they’ll even be able to convince Joe to go with them. Right now, though, Joe and Sachio are laying on the cool tile floor in the gym, situated close to the electric fan, which turns in a futile effort to push hot air out of the room.

Sachio thinks they should maybe get a couch for the gym, something big and squishy and comfortable. Joe likes to lay around when he’s not training with the kids or out running errands, and laying on the floor feels kind of weird. Pops has the radio on somewhere in the back, but Sachio can still hear the music, which is flat and kind of tinny. Joe is tapping a foot in time with the beat.

Sachio is about to ask Joe whether he wants to go get ice pops when he catches the sound of a car outside. The road out front is barely paved, but it’s still a lot better than some places in the restricted area. Joe perks up at the sound of tires over a pothole. He and Sachio get up to see what the trouble is.

The car outside is normal, a modest sedan in good repair. It probably comes from the administrative section, because there isn’t a lot of dust on it. There’s the sound of a door snapping shut and a man steps out from behind the car. He’s dressed in what Pops would call “office clothes”, slacks and a nice shirt. He has a camera hanging on a strap around his neck.

Sachio goes to sit on the edge of the boxing ring, with his arms resting on the bottom ropes. Joe is still standing when the camera man comes in.

“Yo,” Joe says. He has his hands in his pants pockets. The camera man looks around for a second before he smiles at Joe.

“Hi,” the man says. “You must be Gearless Joe, right? It’s an honor to meet you.” He holds his hand out to shake. Joe kind of eyes his hand suspiciously, then he gives it a quick shake.

“Yeah. What do you want? An autograph?” People have come by asking for autographs before. Sometimes they even want to take pictures. Usually Joe’s prickly about it, but he’ll sign things if he has to. His signature’s in English letters, with a big, spiky letter J.

“Oh, no thank you,” camera man says. He doesn’t really look like a fan anyway. “I work for M Company Press and I came to see if you could do an interview?”

“No interviews,” Joe says. He’s got that fakey bored look on his face, the one he wears when some other boxer is trash-talking in the ring.

“Oh, well, if you’re busy, then I could talk to someone else with Team Nowhere? Does your coach still work here? A Mr. Nanbu?”

Sachio’s kind of tired of this guy. He knows that both Joe and Nanbu hate nosy people, and even though he’s acting all polite, the camera man is still being kind of pushy. Nobody from the restricted area would talk like that, going around in circles to try and get what he wants.

“Pops is busy,” Sachio says. The camera man glances at Sachio and his smile gets a little tight.

“Well, if it’s no trouble at all, I still have a couple of questions. Where did you box before you entered the league? It’s clear from your performance that you were experienced before you entered the tournament, but your official record is just seven matches. Did you fight overseas, or here in Japan? Did you box in the restricted area?”

The camera man looks at Joe expectantly, but Joe just looks annoyed. “No comment,” he says, and turns away. Joe brushes past the camera man and goes up by the front window. They have a few bags stung up there, and Joe pauses to give one of them an experimental jab.

The camera man follows Joe over to the front. He stands besides the bag while Joe steadies it and punches again. “Were you always ‘Gearless’ Joe, or did you train using gear like a normal Megaloboxer? Why did you wear such cheap gear in the fight against Burroughs?”

Joe doesn’t say anything, just continues working the bag, both hands now. The camera man moves behind it, holding the bag while Joe keeps going. He leans his head around to look Joe in the eyes.

“When you fought before, what was your record? Were they unsanctioned matches? What ring name did you use?” Joe ducks his head and punches harder. “Were you Junk Dog?” Joe gives the bag a punch so strong that it slams back into the camera man, who stumbles back two steps.

Now, Sachio has heard the name Junk Dog before. He knows that Joe used to use it as his ring name, when he and Pops were doing the illegal fights. And not just illegal Megaloboxing, but also fixing the fights for that asshole Fujimaki. Pops still calls Joe by that name sometimes, and Mr. Abuhachi, when he comes over, he calls Joe “Mister Junk Dog,” like it’s an inside joke.

This camera man shouldn’t be in on the joke. Joe lunges around the bag, his head down and his hands curled into fists so tight that the scars on his knuckles are all stretched. “No comment,” he snarls. Joe’s posture is aggressive in a way that Sachio’s never seen before. It’s not like when he’s in the ring—he’s leaning into the camera man’s personal space, but his arms are down by his sides.

Sachio catches sight of Joe’s face in the window’s reflection and his chest gets tight. He’s never seen Joe like this before, teeth bared and eyes wide and angry. Actually, “angry” falls short of describing Joe in this moment. A better word would be “feral.” Joe looks like he’s ready to rip this camera guy’s throat out.

Sachio’s breath hitches, and the camera man puts his hands up, trying to placate Joe. He looks nervous, and Sachio can see sweat stains under the arms of his nice shirt. “Hey, hey, hey, there’s no need to—”

Joe’s fist shoots out in a punch that whistles past the camera man’s ear, cutting him off. The camera guy bolts for the door, and Joe and Sachio let him run all the way back to his car, and then he drives away. There’s a moment of silence, and then Joe starts to peel his fist out of the spiderweb cracks that he’s left in the front window. He’s hissing and cursing under his breath.

Sachio jumps up and hops off of the raised ring. “Pops Pops Pops Pops!” he yells, and he runs off into the back to find Nanbu. Nanbu’s sitting at a table in a darkened back room, occupying himself by mending a hole in one of Sachio’s shirts. He kind of startles and splutters, but Sachio grabs his hand to pull him out front to where Joe is.

“Joe got pissed at the camera guy and he punched the window, man! C’mon, the camera guy left but now Joe’s hurt, and he was really scary! It was like BOOM!”

Nanbu has recovered his balance. Joe is still standing by the window, cradling his bleeding hand and using his booted feet to corral the shards of glass on the floor.

“Did you seriously just punch glass, kid? Of all the braindead ideas!” Nanbu says. He stops short, probably because he doesn’t want to step in any glass.

Joe looks up and pauses. “Yeah,” he says, voice thick.

Nanbu sighs. “And that’s blood, isn’t it?” he asks. Sachio doesn’t know how he can tell—maybe he can smell it or something.

“Yeah,” Joe says again.

“Goddammit. Sit down, and I’ll go get the stuff.” Nanbu stomps off upstairs to get alcohol and bandages. Joe sits down where Sachio was before, at the edge of the ring. Sachio grabs a broom and a dustpan to clean up the glass from the window.

Nanbu comes back while Sachio is sweeping up the glass. He sits down next to Joe and takes his hand, running his fingers over Joe’s knuckles and the back of it to find the cuts.

“Pretty shallow, kid, you’re lucky today,” Nanbu says. Joe grunts. “Now tell me why the hell you thought you could pull a stunt like that in my gym?”

Technically, it’s Joe’s gym too, since most of it was paid for with Joe’s tournament winnings. Nevertheless, Nanbu gets to be the team leader in situations like this one, because he’s the oldest by far, and the most like an adult, and he actually knows things about running a boxing gym.

“Some asshole reporter was in here,” Joe says. Nanbu starts cleaning his hand, and he doesn’t look very gentle about it. “Wouldn’t shut up asking questions. And he knew about Junk Dog.”

Nanbu scowls. He pulls out the bandages. “What’s this guy’s name? And who’s he with?”

Sachio chimes in. “He said he was from M Company Press. I don’t think he said his name.”

“Well I hope you didn’t say anything, kid. I’m gonna go make some phone calls.”

Sachio protests, “Joe was good, he didn’t say anything! He just got real scary at the end.”

“Scary, huh. Glad I wasn’t here to see it, then,” Nanbu says. He’s turned his face in Sachio’s direction. He finishes taping up Joe’s hand, then he gets up to go to the office.

“Ah, you wouldn’t’ve seen it even if you’d been here,” Joe says. He’s flexing his hand to make sure the bandage is secure.

“You know what I mean, mutt,” says Nanbu. He leaves the room before Joe can think of a retort. Sachio dumps all the glass into the little metal trashcan, and Joe just leans back, putting his weight on the ropes in a familiar way.

Sachio puts the broom away and looks outside. All the neighborhood kids are still out there, crowded together to sit in the sliver of shade cast by the building. Sachio looks back at Joe and then goes to join them.

\---

Sachio gets back around sunset, lets himself in, and then goes upstairs to wash up for dinner. Pops is making a comfortable clatter in the kitchen, and when Sachio comes in, he can see Joe sitting at the table to keep him company. Joe looks a little morose, which Sachio takes to mean that they’ve been discussing the camera man and his company.

“Are they gonna tell on Joe?”

“Tell on the kid? No way, they wouldn’t get anything from it,” Nanbu says. “Joe’s ID is good as gold with Shirato backing us up, and they’ve got no proof anyway. Now get over here and tell me if the chicken is cooked through.”

Sachio hops up to let him know that the stir fry is fit to eat, then he gets roped into helping serve rice. Once everything’s on the table, Joe starts to bolt down his food. When Joe eats like this it always reminds Sachio of the little contests that he and his friends would get up to. Sachio never tries to race Joe though, because Sachio can’t hope to keep up, and because Pops only tolerates it when Joe does it.

Joe grunts when he’s finished his meal, then he stands up from the table and leaves the kitchen. Sachio can hear him go up the stairs and open the door to the roof. Probably, he just wants to be left alone. Sachio hopes that there are no camera men on the roof.

Nanbu mutters darkly into his rice. “So, kid gave you his Look today, did he?” Sachio can hear the significance in his voice.

“He wasn’t looking at me, it was the camera man,” Sachio says. “I just saw if from behind. I thought he was gonna hit that guy!”

“Mmm. He probably just wanted to scare that guy off.” Pops keeps eating for a minute. “It’s a defense mechanism, I guess. He used to use it in the ring. Psych out those tough-guy boxers.”

“Well I’ve never seen him use it before.”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t have. We went for discipline while we were shooting for Megalonia. Only time the Look came out was in the tunnel with Mikio Shirato.”

“Woah. And then you knocked him out!”

Nanbu kind of wrings his hands together. “Did what I had to, kid. And he’s used the Look on me before. Guess I’m used to it.” Nanbu shivers against the back of his seat. “Still get nightmares about it, though.”

“Can you even see it in your nightmares?”

Nanbu straightens up, scoops up one of the kitchen towels, and throws it at Sachio with unerring aim. “Shut up, kid, of course I can see in my nightmares! What do you know, anyway?”

Sachio giggles, but Pops still looks pretty thoughtful. He clasps his hands on the table in front of him. “Listen kid, any trained boxer is dangerous. They know all the right ways to beat a guy up.” He sighs and sits back. “And I know Joe’s your big bro and all, but he’s the most dangerous of ‘em all. It was his boxing put Yuri in the wheelchair. If he wanted to, Joe could kill someone barehanded.”

Sachio makes a little noise of protest. Pops puts his hands up. “Hey, hey, I’m not saying he would! Joe’s a good kid—he’s reckless, but he wants to do what’s right. Joe wouldn’t kill anyone that didn’t really deserve it.”

Sachio folds his arms and pouts. “I’m not convinced, Pops.”

“People like Shirato try to dress it up, but boxing’s a blood sport, kid.”

“I know that!”

“There’s all kind of stories of guys getting hurt, even dying. And we have rules, Sachio, but it can still happen. Joe’s a good guy, kid, he knows when to stop so that nobody gets hurt. It just freaks me out, when I see that face of his. When he looks like that I get scared that he’ll forget when to stop.”

Nanbu trails off, waiting for confirmation or a response. “Okay, Pops,” Sachio says. He sniffles and goes back to eating. Pops waits for a bit longer, just in case Sachio has more to say, then he goes back to his plate too. As they’re finishing up, he tells Sachio, “You should probably talk to Joe too, if you’re worried. He could probably use the company.”

“Mkay,” Sachio says, but after the dishes are put away, he just goes to his room. He spends an hour or so watching the news and surfing the internet for funny videos by himself. Once he’s bored of that, he goes back to the kitchen to make a pot of green tea. He pours two cups and brings both up to the roof.

They built a little patio on the roof, which Sachio thinks is almost as cool as the fancy boxing ring down in the gym. One half is shaded by a large awning, and there are tables and chairs scattered about. Joe isn’t sitting on any of the chairs—instead he’s sprawled out on the low wall that runs the perimeter. He’s got one arm curled under his head, and he’s looking out across the waste towards the lights of the administrative district.

Sachio says hey, Joe says hey back, and Sachio pulls a chair over so he can sit by Joe. He can just barely see the top of Megalobox arena from here, shining in the midst of all the city lights.

“Joe…you ever kill someone?” Sachio says.

Joe flips himself over so that his back is to the city. He hoists himself up so he’s leaning on one elbow and looking at Sachio with a perplexed expression on his face. “Nah, kid, I never killed anyone,” he says. “What brought this up?”

“Pops and I were talking. He said you could kill a guy, and you already put Yuri in the wheelchair. It’s just scary to think about.”

Joe thinks for a second. “Well, I probably could kill a guy, if I had to. But I wouldn’t do that unless I absolutely had to. That stuff stays with you, even out here,” he says. Joe looks out across the slums. He pushes himself up to a sitting position. “And what happened with Yuri really sucked. He should’ve waited until he was healed from the surgery before we had the match. It’s…” He sighs. “Yeah, it really sucks.”

They sit in silence for a minute. Sachio looks back and forth between the dingy yellow lights spattered through the slums and the brilliant blue-white painting the administrative section.

“I’m sorry, Sachio.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was scared, myself.”

“You were scared? Of the camera guy?”

Joe snorts. “I guess. It’s dumb to be scared of some salaryman.”

“What could he do to you?”

“It’s dumb.”

“Nuh-uh,” says Sachio. “Tell me about it.”

Joe looks at Sachio in the eye. “If he knew about Junk Dog, he could put the story out that I’m not a legal citizen. They could take away my title, all the money. Then everybody would hate me, and I’d be all alone out here.”

“You wouldn’t be alone!” says Sachio. “I’d still be here, and Pops too. We stuck around when you didn’t have any money before, and we’d stick around if you lost it all, too.”

Joe smirks. “That’s so corny.”

“I’m not corny! You’re corny!”

“No way, kid, you’re the corny one. You’re always calling me ‘big bro.’”

Sachio feels his face getting hot. He fidgets his hands in his lap.

“You know, when I first met Pops, he tried to call me ‘bro.’ I told him there was no way I had any brothers like him.”

Sachio doesn’t know what to say. He sits in silence for a moment.

“But I think I’d be cool with having a little brother like you. You worked really hard to help out. I’m glad you’re in my corner.”

“J-Joe!”

“I think I mean it. C’mon, Sachio.” Joe pulls him into a hug. His long arms wrap all the way around and block the bright lights from the city. They stand like that and watch the streetlights go out through the slums. Sachio can hear cicadas echoing through the night, and the slow movement of the river, and the cadence of Joe’s breathing, loose and relaxed. They let go and sit in the dark for a little while longer.


End file.
